Across the Universe
by whoson1st
Summary: The battle is over, and his reward has been collected. But before he can go, his gaze lands on a stack of papers, a reminder of dark and lonely times. In his last moments, he finds a crack to send one last gift to the lost girl and his human self, one they desperately need. One-shot sequel to Letters to the Lost Girl.


_**Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed the Letters. Hope you enjoy this one as well!**_

_**oOoOo**_

_Words are flowing out like__  
__Endless rain into a paper cup__  
__They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe._

oOoOo

The Doctor threw his coat on a coral strut and stumbled over to the console. Not much time left now. He'd collected his reward, he'd seen to it that all of them well and taken care of. He'd even seen _her_…he couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever had a faint glimmer of recognition, some subconscious sense of familiarity. Maybe not. He'd certainly not been himself when he saw her.

He struggled his way around the console, putting the TARDIS into the vortex for the last time with these hands. These hands that had fit hers…so well. Almost like they were made for her, and her alone.

He caught sight of the stack of papers on the captain's seat. He had looked over them briefly, between visits. He had toyed with the idea of handing them to her, with a warning to not read them until…but that wouldn't work. Even if she'd been able to stave off her curiosity, which he sincerely doubted, it wouldn't work. She'd had nothing with her when she fell…she couldn't. Neither of them could have predicted it.

He'd never told her. Oh, _he_ had, that other him. That version of him had nothing left to lose. He'd said the words that the Doctor had been screaming inside his head as she lost her grip, the words he'd longed to say when the sun burnt out…the ones he still couldn't say when she'd asked him. They weren't his words anymore, he didn't deserve to sully their meaning by saying them aloud just before leaving. He didn't deserve her. He never had.

But it was all there, in that stack. Everything he didn't say. Everything he'd wanted to. All written down when he had lost hope of ever seeing her again. The letters he'd written to his lost girl, so far away.

He straightened as an idea occurred to him, one last glimmer of hope. He found one last reserve of strength and leaped for the monitor, inputting calculations at lightning speed. If there was even a chance, he had to find out.

_There_.

One last surviving crack. So tiny it had been almost invisible. To push anything through at all would seal it off, because it was barely open as it was. He had no idea where it would come out, but it was his last chance. He had to try.

He stumbled over to the seat and grabbed the stack before walking slowly but purposefully for the TARDIS doors. He'd positioned the ship right beside it…he couldn't risk missing. He opened the doors carefully, shivering slightly as the cold air hit his broken body. He held out a trembling hand and dropped the stack, and felt tears burning his eyes as they blinked out of existence. He closed the doors again, and leaned his body against it, much like he had against that white wall so long ago.

"Rose," he whispered, using the last of his strength to add a telepathic nuance to the name. He prayed that she'd hear, that she'd find his last gift for her. His precious Rose.

He staggered back near the controls and turned. He looked around him, at his beloved TARDIS, seeing memories of loved ones play around him like ghosts. He glanced at his hands and saw the golden energy coming off of them in waves.

"I don't want to go," he said finally with a sob, just before he burned into oblivion.

oOoOo

The man known as John Tyler watched the woman he loved walk out the doors of his lab and sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. They hadn't fought, not this time. They'd both been carefully, painfully civil, not wanting to inflict more wounds than they had already. All he'd wanted to do was pull her to him and bury himself in her warmth, but he couldn't. She had stayed just enough steps away, saying as much with her body language that she may as well have been holding up a "Keep Out" sign. A neon one.

He couldn't even remember now what the latest fight had been about. One of them putting themselves in harm's way, leaving the other alone and terrified. That sounded about right.

This…alone…thing. That's what got them. Every time. Neither of them could bear to be alone anymore.

But somehow, because of that, they were alone all the time now.

She still wasn't sure that he was her Doctor. How could she be? The circumstances had been…bizarre. And brutal. To be honest, he still wasn't sure that she was his Rose, only because it still felt like a dream that he was actually here with her, able to hold her and kiss her without holding back…well, not holding back the way he used to.

Well, except for right now.

But she wasn't sure. And he could never convince her. Because he wasn't…her Doctor, that is. She fell in love with a mad man in a box that could lay the whole of time and space at her feet. All he had to offer was his singular, breakable heart. How could he ever expect that to be enough? She deserved so much more, SO much more. She deserved everything that he had been able to give her…before this.

He didn't think he could survive losing her again…not like this. Not after everything that he'd gone through when she was ripped away. He hadn't been able to tell her everything…she'd asked, cuddled up to him on the sofa, what he'd done while she was gone. He'd told her about his adventures and non-adventures, about Martha and Donna and some of their stranger habits, about missing her.

But not everything. He hadn't told her that the mere sight of her jacket nearly drove him to his knees in despair. He couldn't tell her about the all the times, so many times, when he'd turned to say something to her before remembering that he wouldn't say anything to her ever again. He didn't mention how he'd taken to sleeping in her room, or the nightmares that plagued him even then. He didn't tell her about the times when his hearts would hammer in his chest and he couldn't breathe and thought he was dying…and he certainly left out the times that he wished he could just die and have it done with, rather than live for a few more centuries wracked with pain and guilt. He couldn't do that to her.

He couldn't find the words to explain to her how much he was truly and fully _her Doctor_, the one who had burned up a sun to say goodbye, the one who had loved her so fiercely that he'd fought the burn of regeneration to stay with her in the body that fit hers so well. His mind held every memory of every hand hold, of every hug, of every fleeting glance and unsaid word.

But his body only had one heart. And his lifespan only held so many years. How could he ever hope to measure up to what he had once been?

oOoOo

Rose tossed her keys on side table and sank into the sofa, not even bothering to remove her jacket or trainers. It had been a long and frankly terrible day. It had been a day filled with paperwork and debriefings and avoidance of the Doc…John. She had ventured down to his lab finally just before she left for the day, and soon after wished she hadn't. They'd been…polite. Whatever fight they'd been in this time, it was over. But it wasn't gone.

It seemed like they were always fighting, now. In the TARDIS, it had all been so easy. Oh, sure, they'd had disagreements, particularly when she wandered off or he tried to send her away. But now their arguments had a desperate quality, one that hadn't been there before, and one she couldn't bring herself to examine too closely.

She closed her eyes and sighed as she thought of the time they'd been together since The Crucible, since that blasted beach in Norway. It had been hard for her, when she'd heard the TARDIS leaving, realizing the Doctor hadn't even said goodbye. But then she'd felt the familiar fingers laced with hers, and had looked up into his soft brown eyes, and had felt…home.

And then, in the days that passed, he'd been all mad grins and manic energy, creating a new identity for himself, taking the name John Tyler ("Too many Smiths floating around now. Time I had a name that meant something to me," he's said with a grin and meaningful look at her), and dragging her around London, intent on finding every minute difference between this universe and the other one ("Did you know, Rose Tyler, that in this universe, the Beatles had more number ones than Elvis? Good thing those trivia questions didn't relate to other universes as well."), but he'd been different. There was an added tenderness when he held her, and when he kissed her…

He'd been sorry that it would take so long to grow another TARDIS, even with Donna's ingenious plans to accelerate it, but she'd told him she didn't mind. It was true that she had missed the travelling they'd done since coming to this universe, but that hadn't been the object of her relentless search in the time that they'd been separated. The whole of time and space was just a perk, albeit a very big one. It had always been about the two of them. She didn't care if they were on the TARDIS, or in London, or on Krop Tor. Well, she'd rather not Krop Tor.

But then he'd started getting distant, more and more distracted by his project with the TARDIS. He started spending obscene amounts of time at the lab, even though he no longer had a Time Lord stamina, and when she would see him, it would be to watch him stagger into the flat and fall into bed, dark circles like bruises around his eyes. Even when she convinced to spend some time outside of the lab, he still had a Time Lord attention span, and would soon lose focus in whatever she was trying to distract him with and would end up pouring over star charts or scratching out calculations in his notebook.

_He doesn't do domesticity_, she thought sadly, the first tears escaping to trickle down her cheeks.

He had lost so much simply by being created, this version of him. He'd lost centuries of possibilities ahead of him. He'd had the whole universe at his beckon call. He'd had Time Lord physiology, which trumped everything his new human body had to offer. He'd had a magic blue box that could take him anywhere, any when, that he could possibly think of. He'd had everything that was left of his planet and his race. And just by being created in that singular moment of need…he'd lost it all.

He'd been deserted here with nothing but her. He'd told her it didn't matter, that he wanted to be there with her, but she couldn't quite bring herself to believe him. She'd seen his face when he looked up at the stars, the longing that was there, even before he threw himself headlong into growing the new TARDIS. That's why she hadn't fought him more when he'd started to bury himself in his work. How could she keep him from where he was meant to be going?

He hadn't said he loved her since that day on the beach. She knew that didn't mean that he'd stopped feeling it. She was just coming to the realization that, one heart or two, she would never be enough for her Doctor.

oOoOo

_Rose._

Rose woke with a start. She glanced around and realized that she was in her bedroom. She looked over and saw John lying next to her, fast asleep, still in his dress shirt and pinstripe slacks. She must have dozed off on the sofa, and he'd carried her in here when he came home.

After a moment, she remembered what had woken her up. She studied him closer, trying to find any hint that he was faking, but found none. She could have sworn she'd heard his voice. It had almost sounded like it had when he'd been calling to her across the void…but that couldn't be the case. It was impossible.

_Sometimes, I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast, _she thought wryly, before moving to get off the bed. She couldn't get back to sleep right now if she tried. She stilled for a moment when John stirred on the other side of the bed, but then got up and silently left the room when he quieted.

She made herself a cup of tea and padded softly to what had become John's study to find something to read. She was shocked when she opened the door to find the room in complete disarray. No, not quite…she could still see his tinkering lined up carefully with their corresponding parts on the work table. But there were sheets of paper flung everywhere, as if someone had simply stepped into the room and tossed a whole stack in the air. She was about to turn away when a word caught her eye.

_Rose__._

Cautiously, she put her tea down and bent to retrieve the piece of paper.

_You'll never see this. I know you won't. You're gone, and I lost my chance._

What in the world?

She set about gathering up the papers scattered around the room, and then shuffled them into what seemed to be the correct order. She set the stack on the desk and stared at it.

They were letters. Letters to her. Letters the Doctor had written while she'd been trapped here without him. She stared at the pages like they might just blink out of existence, wondering if she was dreaming this.

Just seeing her name in his familiar handwriting brought tears to her eyes. She had known that he thought about her, that he'd missed her while they'd been separated, but she'd never expected this. He had skirted around talking about much more than surface chatter when she'd asked him about his adventures without her, and the dark look that sometimes crept into his eyes kept her from delving further.

She took a deep breath, sat down, and started reading.

…_I would have just kept going, watching everything burn and drown until I was lost in it, until all the rage and grief and loss pulled me under…_

…_I can't breathe without you. You took my breathe away so many times when you were here, and now that you're gone…you took it all with you..._

…_Once it's you, there's no power on this Earth that can stop me. That's the name that gives me strength, that keeps me fighting…_

…_Hell is being without you, Rose…_

…_And I need you with me. I'll never stop needing you, no matter what happens…_

…_Because if anyone deserves forever, it's you…_

…_900 odd years of existence, and you, Rose…you had the strength to say what I never could…_

…_I would bleed forever if I could have you here again, even if just for a moment…_

…_I wonder if we hadn't had the distractions…if I hadn't been able to run. I wonder if then…_

…_Fate took you from me…before I could cause you any more pain… _

…_No matter who is with me, who I find…I'll always be lonely without you, Rose…_

…_For all the pain, for all the tragedy, I will never regret the day you got past my shields…_

…_There's no one waiting for me there anymore. But for a second…I could pretend you weren't lost…._

…_Rose or the universes. It's still so damn hard not to pick you…_

…_I've lost all perception of what I should and should not allow, what I should or should not risk, lost it the minute you lost your grip, and the breach closed off, separating me from the thing that made me whole again…_

…_I'm still here, pretending that it doesn't hurt to breathe. Pretending that you're not still in my thoughts all the time… _

…_she even almost looked like you…_

…_Because even a good day…isn't good enough if you're not there…_

…_I feel like I've somehow been unfaithful to you…_

…_I have an emptiness in my head left by an entire race of the damned, and a girl in my hearts, in my veins, that I will never see again…_

…_I am ready to get down on my knees and pray to anything holy left in this universe, in any universe, that I'll find you somewhere in all this mess…_

…_And if you want to remember me, you can do one thing. Just one thing. Have a good life, my beloved Rose…_

oOoOo

Rose sat silently for a moment after finishing the letters, tears streaming down her face. Everything about the letters was so very HIM. The way he described his adventures, the way he could swing between making her cry to making her laugh…she could practically hear his voice while reading them.

What she hadn't expected, though, was the intensity of his grief. She knew that he was…well, more than just a little sad when she got stuck in another universe, and she knew that he'd been thrilled to see her again, but this was…heartbreaking. He'd been heartbroken.

All of time and space at his doorstep…and he couldn't stop thinking about _her_. He'd been as broken as she had by the separation. She had buried it in single-minded determination to achieve the impossible and get back to him, while he had…done what he always had. He had run. As far and as fast as he possibly could. But he still found time to write her letters that he didn't think she'd ever see, because she was still what he thought about all the time.

"Oh, Doctor," she whimpered.

oOoOo

John's eyes snapped open and he registered two things instantly. One, it was still the very early hours of the morning, 3:02 to be exact. Second, Rose was gone.

He sprang up from the bed and called for her. He was relieved when her heard her voice calling back from his study, but hesitated when it sounded…off. A bit rough, with a slight nasal quality that suggested a cold. Or crying. For the first time, he sincerely hoped she had woken up with the sniffles.

He found her curled into his desk chair, leafing through a sheaf of papers. She looked up when he entered the room, and he could see the dampness still on her cheeks. Not the sniffles then. What had he done to make her cry now?

"Doctor, why did you ask Donna to come with you?"

"Because she was brilliant," he said promptly, a little confused by the random query. Then, "hang on, you just called me Doctor…"

Rose just shook her head. "Why did you ask her to come after the Racnoss?"

John shifted uncomfortably. "Because…because she stopped me. Sometimes…I need someone…" He swallowed hard. "Why are you asking me this?"

"To see if you'd answer," she said with a shrug, then glanced down at the papers in her lap. "You talk all the time," she continued, "but you've gotten used to not really saying anything."

In his mind, he heard her words echoed by Martha and Donna. But surely Rose knew that he told her more than…anybody, really. She was the only one he'd ever really been able to, because no matter how much he told her about his dark deeds and the constant guilt that plagued him, she still looked at him like he was a hero.

"_Who needs a knight in shining armor,"_ she'd said once when he tried to convince her that he was damaged, his soul tarnished. _"I'll take a madman in a box any day."_

He shook himself. He wasn't her hero anymore. He couldn't be.

"Rose, what is this about?"

"I found these scattered around the study," she replied, holding out the papers.

He took the stack from her and glanced at the top page, then stopped and read it more earnestly. "No…"

"What?"

"No no no no…he couldn't have. Did he? No! Yes! How the hell did he manage that?"

His letters, the ones he'd written to his lost girl, while they had been separated by the void, were somehow here. He'd written them because he'd needed her by him, needed to talk to her so desperately, that he'd done the only thing he could and wrote. It was always when he was alone, when there was precious little to distract him from his own grief and whatever fresh pain had been brought on by his adventures.

"They're…letters to you," he told her. "From me. Well," he added, frowning at the last couple of pages, "mostly me. And I have no idea how they got here." He looked up and saw her watching him intently. "You've read them," he said, flatly.

She nodded. "They were addressed to me, weren't they?"

He backed away to lean against the doorframe, rubbing a hand down his face. "Rose, I'm sorry. You were never meant to have seen these."

Rose gave him a calculating look, then asked why he was working so hard on growing the new TARDIS.

He blinked at her. "Because I need it," he said simply. He was horrified when he saw tears spring to her eyes again before she looked down. He rushed to her, crouching beside the chair. "Rose, what is it?"

"You don't want to be here," she whispered. "I thought…after reading the letters…maybe I was wrong…"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. Oh, he was thick. Thick thickity thick face from Thicktown, Thickannia.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Doctor. You were never made to stay in one place for long."

He pulled away just far enough to look into her face, gently cupping her chin so she'd look up at him. "No, Rose, don't do that. Don't ever do that." He moved his other hand to frame her face, and gently brushed away a tear with his thumb. "Don't you dare ever think that you're not enough. You're brilliant, you are," he said with a watery grin. "The TARDIS was for you, not me. I had to have…something to offer you. I never deserved your love, even when I could show you anything, take you anywhere. Now…" He shrugged and dropped his hands.

Rose's eyes widened. "Doctor," she said slowly, picking the letters back up, "why did you write these?"

"Because I love you," he said promptly. "And because living without you was a level of torture I hadn't thought existed and really don't want to relive ever, and writing to you made you feel…closer, somehow." He frowned. "You called me Doctor again."

"Did you think I risked everything and went universe hopping to find the _TARDIS_?"

"I…no." He shook his head. The conversation was getting away from him again.

"I went to find you."

"You went to find _him_."

Rose rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. "I understand that you have an identity crisis of epic proportions, and you have every right to. I'm not going to pretend that it's easy for me all the time either, because I know he's still out there, somewhere, the man I fell in love with." His breath hitched, and she mirrored his previous motion, placing her hands on either side of his face. "But he's also right here. I love you for everything that you were, and for everything that you are now, everything that you gave up for me. You are what I want. My Doctor."

He swallowed hard. All the fights, all the pain and heartbreak, simply because neither of them could believe that they truly deserved this, that they were good enough, that the universe had finally relented and was allowing them to be happy. Something inside him, some tension that he'd been holding on to for so, so long, finally broke.

"Always," he breathed before taking her into his arms and dragging her to the floor with him and kissing her hard. It was fire, and passion, and longing, and heat. They were pouring everything they had into each other, and everything they'd lost, sharing every pain and healing each other.

Neither one noticed that papers had fallen to the floor and once again scattered around them…their last gift from a lonely angel.

_Be brilliant together. Be the stuff of legend._


End file.
